Upside Down, Inside Out
by JamiesDimples
Summary: Sacajawea, also known as Rose Branton, is an eighteen year old Assassin, trained by none other than Achilles. She's vicious, shy, and relentless. She barely talks, and if she does open her mouth, Achilles would be the only one to witness her soft voice. Then she meets Connor, and she notices, everything starts to change. [This is my first FF, so.. hopulikit :D ]
1. Prolog

**_Prologue_**

Her first leap of faith she performed at the age of sixteen. It was at night, and the tip of a church, a pretty big one for a regular church, she thought. The cold air bit at her soft flesh as she soared through the air and fell into nothingness, arms outstretched at her sides. With a smooth and unnoticed motion she flipped over, and softly landed in the big hay stack at the foot of a shop just on the other side of the street. She was scared, she admits it, but for her first jump, her mentor was proud, and so was she.

Easily she jumped out of the hiding place and shook off the rest of dry grass, before marching down the street of Boston, composure in her gait, a slight sway in her hips. So slight, that it is unnoticed by the residents of the city. She was used to the strange looks the people threw at her; after all she wasn't a native Bostoner. She was an eighteen year old Shoshone of the name Sacajawea, but called Wea in her tribe.

A few years she has dedicated to training the arts of the Assassin Brotherhood. She seeked revenge on those who had killed her parents, her brother, and most of her tribe members. She was six years old, and on a hunt with her older brother, Odakota. With the bounty in the hands on their way back to home, they quickly took notice of what was going on. Their whole settlement was on fire, people were dying in the poisonous smoke, in the heat of the flames that cocooned one instantly. There were so many colors Wea has seen that night, colors she has never seen before, watching her brother being sucked in by the flames to find their parents, only to get shot by one of the Redcoats. She, on the other hand, got threatened by a general called Charles Lee. She heard the one single shot echoing off the in the forest, forcing its way into her ears, the one shot that killed her brother that night.

With a nonchalant expression and hatred flooding her eyes, she swiftly withdrew her hidden blade with which she had killed the last soldier in this fight. She looked around, regaining her vision of the real world and saw the sliver of red, as the snitch disappeared around the next corner to call for reinforcements. After all, Sacajawea, known as Rose Branton, killed ten men in less than five minutes, thanks too Achilles' hard training.

Sacajawea got up from her crouched position and took off into the opposite direction the snitch fled to. She jumped onto a wooden fence, climbed onto a few boxes, performed a wall run and grabbed hold on the lip of the building, pulling herself onto the roof of the house. With much skill she jumped from one roof onto the other, followed by two of the many soldiers tracking her down.

It has and will always be one of the most exciting feelings for Sacajawea to experience, being hunted down over the rooftops of Boston by British soldiers, who have no chance when they're fewer than ten men. Wea silently but quickly walked over the skimpy ropes linked between two rooftops. As she reached the other roof, she drew her sword, whirled around on her heels and smoothly cut through the two ropes like a piece of butter.

The ropes gave a whipping sound and with the soldiers they sailed downwards. Wea sheathed her sword, exchanging her weaponry with her hidden blades, and jumped off the roof. Her blades cut through the soldier's throats like nothingness, a speck of dust in the night wind, blacking out the screams of terror. She heard the officer commanding his men to find that "bitch".

With that call, Wea took off. She ran through the streets of Boston at night, pushing aside the residents, still being extremely careful not to hurt them or cause damage in any thinkable way. She used the alleyways as shortcuts, and in the distance her eyes already took notice of a hay stack, which she would use as a hiding place.

To make sure she had a safe distance to her enemies, Sacajawea glanced over her shoulder, starting to slightly run out of breath. Her lungs clenched together, screaming for the air they so badly needed but got denied, her calves burning like fire as she ran and ran. Wea turned back around and just as she faced straight forward, she ran into somebody about a head taller than her.

The non existing air got forced out of her lungs in a huff, as she pulled one of her brethren to the dirty ground. The sound of weapons colliding with weapons and earth echoed through the city. Taken aback Wea managed one single glance at the assassin underneath her, before seizing the – obviously – mans collar and taking a right sided roll into the hay stack she luckily reached. She pressed her body against his and laid a hand onto the assassin's mouth, trying to keep him quiet. Both were panting heavily, she noticed, so he must've been running away too, or just finished one of the gory fights that she experienced day for day.

Sacajawea squeezed her eyes shut and buried her head in the man's shoulder, still pinning him down with all her bodyweight and pressing her hand against his mouth. His hot breath tickled her soft skin, as she heard the shouts and insults from the soldiers, directed at the two assassins, as they were coming closer and closer.

"Where'd that sonuvabitch go, ya'll?"

"I've no idea, mate."

"D'you have any luck with that assassin yet, my friends?"

"Na, he's too fast for us. How 'bout that assassin you're chasin'? Any good news from your side?"

"Sadly, not. She's way too fast for us, we just can' keep up with 'er like that."

"Same here. That dude's just too skilled for our men."

"What'd Lee say? Don't ever underestimate your foe."

"Yeah, somethin' like that. Well, I'm gonna head back to my post. See ya around soon."

"Yeah, let's head back, guys. Sooner or later we'll find them. Both."

After that conversation, the only thing that was left to hear was marching, a lot of footsteps, heading into the other directions of where Sacajawea and the assassin she bumped into where located in the hay stack. Wea rolled off of her brethren and out of the itching stack, stood up, shook the rest off and listened. But nothing was to be heard. She searched for a way out of the little corner between the four houses.

"I must thank you. That was pretty close, what has happened here. I am forever in your debt, my brethren." The taller assassin thanked her in a low and soft voice.

Sacajawea looked up from her escape route and into the shadow face of the assassin. She saw nothing but his jaw, his lips and his nose. Everything else was sucked in by the darkness. Without another word, Wea turned around and ran off, disappearing out of the assassin's sight.


	2. Side Mission

**_Mission_**

With a slight sway in her hips, Sacajawea headed for the two men that were starting to undress the poor woman that was being held by the smaller one. They were both pretty muscular, but most of Sacajaweas fear has been long lost, replaced by hatred and pain to those, who handle with nothing else but malice.

"What're you up to, you freak?" The taller one of the men let go of the black woman and faced the upcoming assassin. As Sacajawea sped up her pace from the distance between them, the man noticed that he wouldn't receive an answer. The man bristled and stepped forward, a silent but threatening challenge for the Indian, who's face he couldn't see, and who's gender he just couldn't unravel in that freakish outfit. "You lost from the carnival or wh-"

The next thing he felt was a slight sting of pain as the rope dart cut through his skull. Sacajawea tugged on the rope and retreated the blade from the man, wrapping the rope around her forearm and holding the bloody blade in her hand, whilst drawing out her gun. She was still marching up, coming closer and closer to the man's ally, who, in the time she killed his friend, let go of the black woman and started running downhill and over the flower covered field. But he had no chance. Sacajawea took off right after him and caught up, shot him in his right leg, and watched him tumble.

The man screamed out in agony and held his calve, muttering and cursing under his breath, insulting the assassin who was reloading his gun.

"No, please!" the man begged and got onto his knees. For once he ignored the pain, rather he'd live with a disabled leg than to die right here and know. "Let me live, forgive me! I did not mean to get intricate in such a filthy and humiliating act, please, have mercy!" the man begged for his life. Who was this person, and why did she want to kill him?

Sacajawea took a halt in front of the kneeling man. She loved his own humiliation, begging and sobbing like a baby, praying for his life, acting like she was some holy god. But she wasn't. She was a coldblooded killer, but with reason and intention in her murders, just a young Native American who seeks revenge for those who get harmed.

"Are you… are you going to kill me?" the man sobbed and looked up into the shadowed face of the assassin. He saw nothing but the chin, the full lips, and a stub nose, which gave away no information of the sex. "Please, don't kill me!" he started whining again, and waited for the bullet to sink in, but nothing happened. The assassin gave no sign of ending his life, but still, there he stood, aiming for his head.

"Don't you think that would be quite charitable for me to have mercy and not end your life right here and now, Alden Burchard?"

"You… you know who I am?"

"Of course I do, you prat. What I don't understand, though, is, how did they not catch you yet? Running around, raping young women, killing them and their family. What is the key to your success, if I may ask?"

"You're a girl?!"

"A young woman, I beg your pardon. Now tell me, why do you enact such gruesome crimes? Did you not get enough attention from the girls in your young years?" Sacajawea had to suppress the upcoming smirk that was tugging at the corner of her mouth. Alden remained silent.

"I'll tell the soldiers that you killed my friend!" he then threatened her, but all he received was a sarcastic, sinister chuckle.

"They know who I am. And I think as long as they're not over ten, they will not approach me. After all, you must know, I am not the only one of my kind."

"Then I'll fight you myself!"

"Try me." And with a bang, Alden's body went limp and dropped like a sack potatoes. Sacajawea took a look at his lifeless, pale face, before sheathing her gun, and heading back up the hill to help the black woman.

"Thank you so much, you saved my life." The woman looked up at the assassin that was carrying her across the field, edging closer to her home. "I have heard of them, but now that you got rid of them, we can live in peace. Thank you. May I ask of your name?" she tried to discern the assassin's face, but all she saw from the angle she was being carried in was the chin, the mouth and the nose. But what little else she could decipher was the silhouette of a long, braided pony tail that vanished under the cloth her hero was wearing.

Sacajawea ignored the woman's questions and gratitude. She kept on her way, enjoying the sounds her weapons were making with every step, the sounds her boots were causing, echoing through the area. She has always wanted to be an assassin; after all, she got saved by one when she was twelve years old. She will never forget that night, it was the night she swore herself to become a part of the Brotherhood, to help innocent and helpless people, and so she managed.

"We're here. You may let me down now. I think I can manage walking. By the way, I did not intend to be so rude, asking for your name, assassin. My apologies, and if our ways should ever cross again, my name is Prudence." Sacajawea still ignored the woman's plea. Instead she carried her to the front porch of her house, enjoying the confusion written over Prudence's face, and waited for her husband to open the door.

"My Lord, what happened to you, darling? Who are you? Why are you carrying her? Are you alright, sweety?" Warren started blabbing like a waterfall, completely oblivious to the assassin as he helped his wife into the house. Sacajawea took advantage of the situation and climbed a tree, vanishing in the crowns of the woods.


	3. Home Sweet Home

With a content sigh, Sacajawea sat up in her bed. She swung her legs over the bedside and got up, ruffling her long, black hair with her right hand over her fragile shoulders. She smacked her lips and entered the bath room, yawning and smacking her pouty lips yet again. After a few minutes, Wea exited the bathroom, lazily trotting back into her room to snatch her outfit and head out to the shore, to get rid of all the blood and dirt she has flogged onto it.

Silently, the young assassin exited the mansion and jogged over to her horse. She mounted said horse, and off they galloped, heading for the shore. It only took a few minutes for them to reach the shore, but it felt like an eternity to Sacajawea. She dismounted Awenasa, bound off her outfit, and went directly to work. It would take a while to get this mess off of her loved clothing, but all that dirt and blood was freaking worth it, she thought.

Meanwhile, Awenasa was taking a long break, drinking the water, playfully splashing some at Wea as she was running through it and rearing now and then. Wea laughed, grinning so wide, the corners of her mouth could've easily cracked her skull in two, throwing her head back. Awenasa snorted and shook her long, white mane, trotting over to her friend she has known since she can remember. She nudged Sacajawea into her ribs, knocking her over.

"Hey!" Sacajawea yelped, but that wouldn't save her from taking an unwanted dip into the cold water and getting herself drenched. Sacajawea reappeared at the surface and spluttered water out of her mouth, coughing and wheezing. She glared at her horse, and she could've sworn, that bitch was grinning. "You…." Sacajawea raised a threatening index finger, her eyes only being brown-gray slits, as she walked over to her horse. She grabbed her assassin outfit and heard how Awenasa neighed – most likely with amusement – and ran out of the water. She skidded to a halt halfway into the forest, turned around, and neighed again, shaking her head. Sacajawea just rolled her eyes and smiled. Her long, black hair was all wet now, just as her blue shirt and short, brown pants.

"C'mon, let's go Nasa. My robe is just as clean as I am, and we don't want Achilles freaking out and going all Charles Lee on me when we get back, or do you want that?" She cocked her head to one side, petting Awenasa's muscular neck before mounting her, after the mare snorted again. "Let's go, Nasa." Awenasa reared again, and then hurried through the woods, down the long dirt path that led back to their home.

With a sigh Sacajawea turned around form the wall and headed for the back porch. She fell into a short sprint, ran up the big, wooden pillar and pushed herself off of it, just in time to grab hold of the balcony's lip. From there she climbed onto the railing and into the balcony, landing with a soft _thump_ of her bare feet. She spread out her outfit, making sure it was completely straight and not crinkly. It was a very hot, sunny day, so she thought she could dry her clothing up here. After spreading out her outfit, she swiftly climbed back down and entered the house.

"Where in god's name have you been, Rose? And why are you all wet?" The young assassin got greeted by a grumpy, old Achilles, who was shooting her a glare promising her a hundred different ways of death. Wea only rolled her eyes, shaking her head and taking a seat in one of the wooden chairs in front of the fireplace. "Don't you roll your eyes at me, young lady! Now, would you be so kind as to tell me what you have been up to at such an early hour of the day and coming back with the thought it would be alright to be dripping all over my house?" Achilles kept on ranting, taking a seat in the chair opposite of Sacajawea, who had to suppress the upcoming giggling fit. Yes, she loved this man, he was like a father to her, but sometimes he just didn't seem to possess the definition of "calm".

"I was just out cleaning my outfit. No need to get all grumpy on me." She answered him, smirking. Achilles eyes narrowed. "And I'm so drenched because my dear friend, the horse, felt the need to knock me over and into the water. No need to worry, nothing happened." She assured him, giving him her best sugar smile she could.

"Aha." Was all what Achilles said. Internally, the assassin rolled his eyes again. What a grumpy, old man he can be. "Don't ever run off again, otherwise I might find the strength to tie you to your bed, in the worst case, I'll even break your goddamn legs if I have to."

"If you ever dare to break my legs, I will hunt you down personally." She retorted, growing slightly mad. Why was he making such a fuss about all this? It's not like she got gang raped by some stupid Redcoats and impregnated. Achilles was about to throw a fit, when the front door opened with a light creek and a Sacajawea familiar voice echoed through the corridor.

"Achilles, are you here?" Sacajawea stiffened. Was it him? Oh no, she thought, no, no, n, no, no. Her brown-gray eyes darted about the large room, desperately searching for a way out of the mansion without having to cross the man's way. Whilst searching for an escape, her eyes met the dark brown ones from her mentor, who just gave her his typical "you're-an-assassin-not-a-wuss" look. Yes, Achilles knew about the vow that was her biggest fear at the same time.

With an annoyed and exasperated moan, the old man stood up and hustled toward the corridor to greet their guest. "Coming, Connor." Sacajawea used her one and only chance and stood up from the chair and ran toward the open window she had detected. In one smooth flow she jumped off the wooden floor and gracefully glided over the windowsill and through the frame. With a thud she landed in the grass and kept on running, heading toward the stall. Grabbing hold Awenasa's soft and long mane, she hoisted herself on top of the mares back, before setting off, disappearing into the woods.


End file.
